The Merciless (h.s.)

Chapter Nine

Arabella

The wooden bench is poking my ass while my free hand clings onto my swollen and sore wrist. My pointer finger and thumb diligently try and soothe the ache vibrating from my wrist bone. My light irises scan my surroundings for the seventh time in the last ten minutes, still not spotting the exit to the street I have been begging any and every higher power to shape-shift into view.

Harry hasn't returned to this corner he trapped me in. My leg is rapidly bouncing in nervous anticipation at his inevitable arrival. The blare of the crowd has subsided to subtle murmurs now. The sudden quietness ought to have calmed my nerves, but has only heightened them.

I hate the fact that Harry left me alone in here to fester in my rotten thoughts. I can't even focus on one thing at a time. This is giving me a massive headache.

My eyes avert back to the door that has not been touched since Harry left.

Although I am not entirely sure what is going on here, I now understand the necessity behind my exclusion. I don't belong anywhere near here. Not in this building. Not in this neighborhood. I know there must be something I am missing because not everything connects, but now I don't care. I started out with puzzle pieces and hastily put them together. My end result is a horrifying image with a few essential pieces missing. Holes in the rigid canvas. Still horrifying, nonetheless.

But it's enough for me.

I no longer have the desire to know the details of this....what even is it? Men fighting in a boxing ring with no gear or gloves or referee. Blood is able to be shed. I wasn't even able to stomach watching until the end. Was there an end? Did they fight to the death?

Oh, God. What if Harry killed that man?

I'm not sure why guilt settles deep in my stomach. So deep I have to stand from the bench because I feel like I'll drop through the floor and straight into the depths of hell.

I have to think about something else for my own sanity.

Where did Elle go?

I could not spot that faux fur coat drifting anywhere through the crowd. I was right behind her. I only was stopped for no longer than a minute by the pervy body guard. She shouldn't have been able to completely disappear through the battalion of men unscathed. There would have been an uproar just as much as there was for me. Those animals ravaged me like they have never seen a woman before, and Elle looked ten times better than me.

My mind will only allow me to remember a fraction of what happened out there. The moment I was shoved in this room all alone, my brain began to suppress the gory details and assaults I endured instantaneously. All I can seem to recall is the amount of men stuffed together in one room, surrounding me, and then I snapped back to reality inside of this poor excuse of a locker room.

I have to get out of here.

My feet stomp towards the swinging door that hasn't moved since Harry's departure. By the sound of it, I should be able to step out and fling myself towards an exit without being seen or at least tampered with. The voices of the crowd have minimized to nothing. I can run out of the building and into the street. I can jump in front of the first cab I find and force myself in if I have to. I can find a way home and forget this ever happened.

Once my hand brushes against the base of the door, it suddenly swings directly in my face. The thin slab smacks against my forehead and shoves me aside as Harry's humongous figure barges through the frame.

His eyes dart to me fumbling to stay on my feet. It only takes him a second to twist his already peeved expression to utter rage.

"Didn't I tell you not to move?" Harry leers while stalking towards me. He looks more ruffled than before and out of breath. I instantly step backwards, desperate for any space between me and this murder machine.